


(my weakness i feel)

by jade-1459 (Jade)



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Community: norsekink, Established Relationship, F/M, Post Avengers (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 10:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade/pseuds/jade-1459
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a difficult day, Loki decides to relax with a hot bath... Sif joins him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(my weakness i feel)

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in response to [this](http://norsekink.livejournal.com/11219.html?thread=25177811#t25592275) prompt (where you can also find a link to another fill). 
> 
> This is also my first attempt at writing anything in the Marvel Universe (and certainly a Loki-voiced story). I use the traditional spelling of most names and places/things in this story.

Leaning back against the edge of the tub, Loki closed his eyes and let the hot water ease the tension from aching muscles. Between listening to court nobles yammer on about petty land disputes and a set of farms argue over the ownership of a pig, working with a group of seiðr to find the monies to fund a school, and the artisan guild cringingly approaching him to speak to Thórr, on top of weapons drills, a politically laced lunch with the Vanir ambassador, and a feast where matrons had been shoving their eligible daughters at him most of the night, Loki was prepare to tell the Æsir to hang themselves from one of Yggdrasill’s branches. All he wanted for the night was to enjoy a nice soak and a good night to sleep. Tomorrow would arrive with more aggravations and challenges from the nobles and building the school, and convincing the artisans that Thórr didn’t mean to snub them by ordering a statue built by the mortals on Miðgarðr.

There was a shift in the steam filled currents of air that alerted Loki that he was no longer alone. There were only a handful of people who would dare breach the sanctity of his private chambers. And of that handful only three could do it with so few signs to betray their presences. Of those three, only one would enter his bathing chamber unannounced.

“Lady Sif,” Loki greeted as Sif stepped into the bath with him. Sitting up a little to make room for her to slide in behind him, Loki added, “I thought you were only to return on the morrow.”

“Father sneaked me out after dinner,” Sif confessed as she settled in the water behind Loki. With her knees pressed against his sides, Loki leaned back against Sif, her arms coming up under his to cross over his chest and hold him against her body. Letting his head fall back to rest on Sif’s shoulder, Loki felt most of the tension leak from his weary muscles.

These moments of tranquility were rare of late. These quiet moments where they were able to enjoy one another’s presence without others making demands upon them did not occur nearly as often as Loki would have liked. He enjoyed the gentle spaces of time when truth and honesty held sway. With the bifröst repaired and powered by the Tesseract communication and trade were once more flourishing between the realms, Loki valued the slivers of time where he could let his guard down. As second prince Loki’s political responsibilities occupied far too much time and he did not have a convenient excuse to include Sif in many of the meetings - even if her opinion or knowledge would have been of value.

“My early return did not disrupt a tryst you had planned for this evening, did it?” Sif teased. He could hear the smile in her voice against his ear. It only served to remind him that he was not bound to this woman, and neither was she bound to him beyond the bonds of friendship and the gentle ties of affection that had been forged in their childhood and adolescence. She was not his wife or his betrothed neither was she his consort nor his acknowledged lover.

“No,” he replied and allowed himself to sink into her hold. The secrecy made what they had so much more fragile. Built on grains of truth and slivers of honesty that they shared with no other soul under Yggdrasill’s branches. Usually, he would have teased her in return. Made some offhand comment about the feast and the matrons attempts to tempt him with their daughters because even a second prince offered the chance to birth the future King until Thórr proved himself fertile -- a fact Loki had already proven for himself.

Sif pressed a soft kiss into the bend of his neck and shoulder. “Stop thinking so hard,” she chided. Keeping him close, Loki felt her reach towards to the edge of the tub for the bottles and balls of soaps he kept there. “Enjoy the quiet while it lasts. From what I have heard coming from the ambassador suites you will have plenty of opportunities tomorrow to wield your mind and tongue as the finely crafted tools they are.”

With a little encouragement from Sif, Loki slid lower in the tub to let the water rise above him. When he came back to the surface, Sif had poured the contents of one of the bottles into the palm of her hand and gently began to massage it into his scalp. “Tell me of your day and I will tell you how Heimdallr distracted Mother long enough for me to get away,” Sif offered.

Loki couldn’t help the smirk that graced his lips. He already knew what topics would be necessary to distract Sif’s formidable mother from her unmarried daughter’s presence. With Sif’s fingers rubbing through his hair, gently pressing against his scalp and working the last of the tension from him, Loki began to tell her of his day.

He told her of the troubles that he and the other seiðr were having raising the necessary funds to open a school. How between land grants and taxes and the general feeling of ill will towards creating a center of learning for magic they would likely need to take a loan to get the school started. And then the interest on top of the principal loan added into the cost of housing and feeding the instructors - never mind the expected salaries - would create tuition costs so high as to make an education in magic almost completely inaccessible.

And that was what frustrated him the most. The point of building a school for arcane learning was to make the knowledge more accessible. The idea had been planted in his mind while out in one of the outlying villages when he’d seen a little boy perform a simple, but complicated piece of the hearth magic. The boy’s sister had praised him for a job well done.

“Take a student,” Sif suggested gently. Her fingers pressed into the skin behind his ears, massaging along his hairline towards his neck. The soothing pressure of her ministrations combined with the steamy heat of the bathing chamber left Loki feeling pliable in her hands. “Building your school is a cause, if you took a student perhaps others would follow.”

She had him laying back in the water again, fingers running through his hair to rinse out the lathered soaps. Staring up at Sif, Loki spoke to her a truth he had only recently admitted to himself while working out the logistics of a school. “I had not intended for my first student to be a stranger's child.” He’d always intended to be the one to teach his children seiðr as they grew. He had hardly begun with Hela before they were all lost to him. “If I were to begin searching for a student I would be besieged by nobles and matrons thrusting their daughters at me. Or they would be like Angrboða. I have no wish to endure more politics or social climbing than necessary," Loki sighed.

Sif eased him back up and pulled him to lean back against her. The memories of Angrboða and what had happened to his children were dark places to travel. Sif had been one of the few people to witness his mourning of their loss. One of the few people who had sought to offer him comfort without pity. And she offered him the same comfort now as she did then. "What about the boy that you spent an afternoon with some months past?"

"Már," Loki answered. "I don't know that his family would take it kindly if I approached them to take their son."

"Why ever not?" Sif asked. She had reached for one of the balls of soap and a sponge. "His sister is teaching him hearth magic at home and he seemed adept in its use. Except for Óðinn, it is widely acknowledged that you are an exceptional master of magic, Loki. Any child would benefit from your instruction," Sif told him.

She dragged the sponge across his chest from shoulder to shoulder and back again. Her ministrations were gentle, soothing, meant to calm and relax. Loki accepted the comfort of her touch as well as her words. Sif rarely, if ever, lied. And in such dealings as these she had never lied to him.

Reaching up, Loki captured her hand as it brought the sponge down his arm. His other hand reached back to cup the nape of her neck and bring her mouth down to his. The kiss was nearly chaste except for a damp hint of tongue - a quite showing of desire. Loki pressed himself back against the front of Sif's body - stretching a little under her touch as she laced the fingers of the hand he held with his own. Her other hand slid over his shoulder and pressed into his chest above his heart.

Tonight, he decided as he parted his lips. He would make his offer to her tonight. A package had arrived that morning from Vanaheimr with the ambassadors. A small gift, a token he'd commissioned some months past. Tonight seemed the right night to ask her to be his consort. Even if she did not wish to be acknowledged before the court as such, Loki would offer her the token and all the promises that went along with it.

Drawing back from the kiss, Loki continued to hold Sif close while his heart raced under her hand. His heart was the only response he could not control. The only part of him that would betray his nerves for the question and offer he now planned to make before they slept. He could only hope she mistook the rapid pace only for desire - a feeling that was mixed in with nerves with her wet body pressed against his back.

Smiling faintly he allowed himself to be pushed forward so she could run the sponge over his back. "Tell me how Heimdallr distracted your mother long enough for you to escape her hold," Loki encouraged.

“He asked mother what would make a suitable courting gift,” Sif answered with amusement.

Loki couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. Having grown up with Sif, Loki was aware of just how quickly her mother’s mind could turn to marriage and babies where her children were concerned. That Heimdallr would willingly put himself in such a position so that Sif could escape was hilariously disturbing. The Gatekeeper must have known that his half sister meant to return to the palace to meet a lover. And he must have figured out who his sister had taken to bed when she would disappear from his Sight each time.

Though, it did make Loki wonder what else Heimdallr knew.

Keeping their conversation light, Loki speculated what kind of courting gift would be acceptable for Heimdallr to give. His suggestions ranged from the common to the outrageous to the comical and each was spoken with the same mock seriousness. His silvered tongued and tone kept Sif laughing and giggling. And when they began to speculate just who Heimdallr meant to court - because Sif insisted that he would not dare make light of such a topic with their mother - Loki had turned in the tub to face his lover.

Taking the sponge from Sif's hand Loki knelt between her bent legs and leaned forward to press a kiss to her lips. The water was beginning to lose some of its heat - the spell he'd cast earlier beginning to fade. Sponge in hand, Loki returned her earlier ministrations. With delicate sweeps of his hand over her back and across her chest. Down her arms and against her palms.

They continued to ponder the identity of Heimdallr's secret love and just how he had met the woman. Some of Sif's suggestions were as wicked as his own. It delighted Loki to remember that this woman - for all her forthrightness and honesty - knew as much about trickery and mischief as he did, albeit in the context of war.

"So what was it you said to the Vanir ambassador to cause the ruffled feathers?" Sif asked as they were stepping out of the bath.

Wrapping the towel about his hips Loki considered how best to answer that question. The ambassador had asked after the token that had been delivered - wondering what Loki meant to use it for. "I insinuated that there were paths of magic and seiðr that the Vanir knew nothing about." Which was truth. There were such teachings of seiðr that most knew nothing about - the knowledge having fallen from memory or out of fashion. And there were paths of magic that most would faint to follow lest they be called evil for their practices.

The token Loki had commissioned had nothing to do with magic or seiðr. It was a simple pendant that could be worn on a chain about the neck or as a bracelet. It could be attacked to a broach or even a hair comb. What made the Vanir interested in the pendant had been the inscription. The runes were old, belonging to a language dead even to the Æsir.

As they moved into his bedchamber, Loki called in the small wooden box. Such a simple thing to make his heart race and skip about in his chest. But it wasn't the pendant itself that made him nervous. It was the woman he meant to give it to and what her response would be.

He had promised her discretion when they were adolescents - not wanting others to whisper about her behind her back. And after they had found each other again in so intimate an arrangement after his return Loki had promised discretion and secrecy to keep the court from speculating about Sif and her loyalties for bedding the disfavoured second prince. They had made no promises of fidelity to one another - not in their youth and not after his return. There were no declarations of love or devotion between them.

But presenting Sif with the pendant and offering her the choice to be his consort Loki was changing everything. Perhaps some of Thórr's optimism was brushing off on him - but Loki was willing to make this risk.

Coming up behind her, Loki pressed a hand to her stomach and brought her back against his front. He presented her with the small wooden box with his other hand. "A gift?" Sif asked with a little surprise. They did not make it a habit to present each other with gifts. The few they had exchanged over the years may have been small and seemingly insignificant to others, but between the two of them they were conversations taking solid form.

Loki remained silent as she opened the box and stared down at the pendant nestled on the bed of dark velvet. The pendant was about the size of his thumb nail and teardrop in shape. The pewter shaded metal was engraved with runes rendered in tiny detail. It was hung from a length of leather instead of chain. It was exquisitely detailed for its apparent simplicity.

As the moment of silence drew on Loki could feel his heart racing against his ribs and wondered if Sif could feel the frantic pace against her back. Her continued silence drove words from his tongue in an attempt to explain. "You need not publicly display the token or even offer one in return," he tried to reassure - though he wasn't certain if the words were for Sif or himself. "I know we agreed to be discreet in our dealings with one another and I do not expect that to change. I wish only to offer you the promises that are mine to make."

"You fool," she murmured softly. Loki felt his heart sink in his chest. There had always been a chance that she would refuse his offer, but Loki had not expected her to call him on his sentiment.

Schooling his features to show nothing but bored unconcern Loki loosened his hold on Sif to allow her to face him. "I never asked you for secrecy, Loki. I was never worried or ashamed to claim you as my lover. I only agreed to your level of discretion because it was important to you." Placing her hand on his chest above his heart Sif added, "I would attend a court feast wearing nothing but your token about my throat."

Leaning forward Loki caught her up in a kiss. Her hands trapped between them - one pressed over his heart and the other holding on to the box – while he cupped her cheeks in his. The heat that pooled low in his belly was tempered only by the fact she had not heard his offer yet. As much as he would have liked to tumble her onto his bed and satisfy the desires her words had invoked he wanted to hear her accept.

It was Sif who broke the kiss, pushing against his chest to part them. "What is your offer?" she asked breathlessly against his lips.

"Accept me as your consort," Loki answered softly. He watched as surprise spilled across Sif’s face when she drew back to see him clearly. “I will pledge fidelity and I will pledge kinship and blood ties to any child born between us.” He felt her nails dig into his skin at his last. Kinship and bloody ties were sore subjects for the both of them for very different reasons. “I offer the promises that are mine to make if you will have them.”

“Yes,” Sif answered, tossing her arms about his neck and pulling him into another kiss. The corner of the box dug uncomfortably into his shoulder, but Loki didn’t have the breath to complain.

When they landed on the bed, Sif pulled away from him only enough to stretch and reach for the weapons Loki had left on his bedside table. Once more kneeling between her bent legs, Loki let his hands slide up her thighs to wrap around her hips and drag her back down the bed to him. She settled easily back into the bed, wrapping her legs lightly around his waist, she held out the throwing knife she’d taken from the bedside table. Loki could only stare at the small knife laying on her palm, unable to move away. 

“Sif,” he began, but she didn’t give him much of a chance to say anything else. With a shift of her hips and a twist of her body, Loki found himself lying on his back with Sif staring down at him. 

“If I will wear your token then I would wear your mark,” Sif told him. “I recognize some of the runes on the pendant from when you attempted to teach the language to me when we were children. I would not bind you to promises I would not give in turn.” She placed the small knife on his chest and reached into the wooden box to pull the pendant on its length of leather out. When she turned her gaze back to him she asked, “Will you accept my promises bound in blood?”

Swallowing Loki answered, reaching for the knife resting on his chest. “Yes,” he said. Keeping his gaze locked on Sif’s he pressed the point of the knife into his thumb and smeared the blood onto the pendant as he offered his pledge. “I pledge to you my fidelity and devotion as your consort. I pledge to you kinship and blood ties to any child born to us. I pledge to you my sword and shield and loyalty in all things.”

Taking his hand in hers, Sif brought his bleeding thumb to her lips. “I accept,” she said and sucked his thumb into her mouth to lick the small wound and accept his promises made in blood. The heat of her mouth, the press of the tongue against the pad of his thumb and the small sharp pain from the wound, the slight shift of her body against his where they were pressed tightly together were intoxicating. 

When he rolled his hips up into her, Sif moaned around the digit in her mouth and bit down gently before pulling back. “Stop trying to distract me,” she admonished him with a smile. 

“It was you distracting me, Lady,” Loki countered as they traded objects. Sif took the knife and gave to him the pendant. “Already you take advantage of me.”

Sif laughed and sat up a little straighter above him. “I have yet to take advantage of you this night, my prince,” she said to him with a wicked grin. Pressing her thumb to the tip of the blade, she made a quick cut and smeared the blood onto the pendant he held up for her. “I pledge to you my fidelity and devotion as your consort. I pledge to you kinship and blood ties to any child born to us. I pledge to you my sword and shield and loyalty in all things.”

“I accept,” Loki breathed against her hand as he brought her bleeding thumb to his mouth. The salt and copper taste of her blood was rich on his tongue. The way she leaned forward, shifting against him, the warm press of the flat side of the forgotten blade above his heart felt like finally finding home. 

“The ritual is satisfied?” she asked with a hushed tone. 

Letting go of her thumb, Loki spoke into the curve of her palm. “Yes,” he said, watching the way her lips parted while she watched his mouth and tongue. “Do you mean to take advantage of me now, then?”

“Oh yes,” Sif answered with a sultry smile. “I would have us dressed in nothing but our skin and your magic for the rest of this night.”

 

***

End

**Author's Note:**

> One fact that should be made clear is that the concept of a consort in this story in no way accurately reflects the true historical concept. What I've done here is taken a concept that would allow Loki and Sif to be together, blended various cultural and mythological (and in two cases, literature based) ideas of a consort, laced it with some angst and romantic feeling and voila! There is a lot of information about consorts that simply didn't make it into this story, but hopefully it's not too jarring for those who have a strong bases in Scandinavian culture and mythology to see this concept treated in the above fashion.


End file.
